The End of Arda
by Kel6
Summary: Sauron, the evillest evil Dark Lord ever (except when Morgoth is listening) discovers that some things are just too horrible for even him to comprehend.


**Title:** The End of Arda  
**Rating:** PG-13 for copious use of the word "sod"  
**Summary:** Sauron, the evillest evil Dark Lord ever (except when Morgoth is listening) discovers that some things are just too horrible for even him to comprehend.  
**Disclaimer:** Lord of the Rings and almost all the characters mentioned within belong to JRRT, to whom I apologise for the complete destruction of the world he invented. If your LotR fic has an OFC and you recognise something from in here, then I may well have used your fic for inspiration because yes, this is a Mary-Sue parody and I've nicked ideas from fics I've read.  
**Author's note:** Yes, I know a Mary-Sue parody is not the most serious way to introduce myself to writing LotR fic. With the exception of the Sues, I've tried to stick to canon as much as possible, so if you see any errors than please correct me.

* * *

Sauron sat at the top of Barad-Dûr, glaring around at anything he could see. Things were not going well. The Ring was still somewhere that no one could find, and the only company he had were the sodding Nazgûl. All right, so maybe being the best evil Dark Lord around (second best if he thought Morgoth was listening) wasn't a job that offered wonderful company, but he hadn't expected it to be so sodding lonely. The sodding Orcs were no better than the sodding Nazgûl.  
  
Sauron growled as he realised he was thinking the word "sodding" too much. He needed to vary his curses a bit more, Morgoth had always reminded him that. Stupid soddi - damn it! - _bloody_ Morgoth. Always _so_ superior.   
  
There was a feeble knock at the door.  
  
'P-p-please, my lord,' quivered the voice of a seven-hundred pound Orc. 'T-there's someone here who-'  
  
'No, NO!' snapped a voice from outside the door. 'You coward! Can't you talk like a normal person?' Sauron bristled, only he was allowed to mock the cowardly Orcs.  
  
The door opened and in she strode. Sauron glared at her. She seemed to be an elf, well, she had pointy ears, but she held herself in a different way to the other elves he'd met. She had the metaphorical equivalent of a sign over her head demanding: "Describe my wonderful features with at least three pages! NOW!"  
  
Her eyes were chocolate orbs... Sauron signalled for the Orc to pull one out, he hardly ever got chocolate, and there was no point in wasting it. The eyeball goo only made it all the better.  
  
The elf shrieked. 'Like, oh my God! What the hell are you doing?' Her hand clasped to the hole where her chocolate orb had been, she desperately tried to run forward to reclaim it. Fortunately, Sauron had not got to the top by being stupid, and she could get no closer than she was. She looked most amusing, trying to push against nothing.  
  
Alarm bells began to ring in Sauron's head at the (ridiculous) foreign sounding speech. He quashed them, he had no proof she was one of... Them.  
  
The elf tried to regain her dignity. Her hair and eyes were changing colour rapidly, it was enough to make even the (second) mightiest Dark Lord ever queasy. 'Who are you and where is Sauron?' she demanded of him, drawing herself up to her full height, which was meagre compared to most elves.  
  
'W-who am I!?' he stared at her, not believing her sodding cheek. 'I AM SAURON! LORD OF THE RINGS!' Very few people ever managed to talk like that, it even made the arrogant elleth back down a bit.  
  
'_You_ are Sauron?' she said, incredulously. 'But he was, like, a disembodied eyeball. The movie said so! Er... I mean... he _has_ to be a disembodied eyeball because... it just happens, OK!?'  
  
Sauron grimaced. Sod. She was one of... Them.   
  
The one last week had mentioned this "movie" too. She had been as bad as this one. She'd strode in, introduced herself as "LeggyLuvr" or "Junhajifidfenhafe Greenleaf" before hurling abuse at him for "kidnapping her precious Leggy". When Sauron had pointed out that he had no use for elves, not even ones with ridiculous names like "Leggy", she had screamed that she knew it didn't happen in the "movie", but it was "fanFICTION" and "HER story" and she could do what she wanted.   
  
Sauron had been momentarily confused, before deciding to sod it all, and give her to the Nazgûl.  
  
'Firstly: it's _is_ not was. I am still here, am I not? Secondly, what use would a ring be to an eyeball? How in Arda would that work? An eyeball doesn't have any sodding fingers, does it!?'  
  
The... Curse looked confused for a second, before adapting quicker than her predecessor and beginning her spiel as though she had never believed he wasn't Sauron.  
  
'Well, my Lord Sauron,' she began, with a bow that seemed incredibly mocking to him. 'I come to offer to you my service.'  
  
Sauron turned his laugh into a cough. He didn't want her shrieking about "fanFICTION" yet, he wanted to know how much she'd had to drink.  
  
'What use would you be, you are nothing but an elleth?' he said, and she seemed pleased, as though he were saying exactly what she wanted him to.  
  
'I am no mere elleth, my Lord!' she stood up straight and proud, obviously waiting for a clap of thunder of something equally dramatic. Fortunately, this was Mordor and the weather did not cater for the whims of mere... Idiots. 'I am the daughter of Galadriel and the granddaughter of Gandalf and I'm half-elfish and I'm a seer and I'm Aragorn's sister and-'  
  
She broke off, Sauron was laughing too hard to be paying attention.  
  
'You're half elf, a quarter Maia and related to that sod they say is the heir of Isildur? Have you even thought that through? The only Maia who ever did anything like... that was Melian, and we all know she'd sleep with anything. Besides, the kid that came out of it was an utter idiot, thanks to the cross-breeding. And Galadriel had one daughter, who's long gone, thanks to the Orcs.'  
  
'But have you SEEN THIS PLACE!?' she shrieked. 'You, like, _so_ need a woman's touch around here! I could be your housekeeper! I could keep things clean and attractive, and get rid of the stink!'  
  
'You think you could get rid of the stink of thousands of Orcs?' said Sauron, shaking his head in amazement. Some people just didn't know when to give up. 'Wouldn't you rather be off chasing "Leggy"?'  
  
Her eyes glazed over. 'OMG, Leggy is sooooo hawt!' she drooled, before snapping out of it. 'NO! I must be strong. The Dark Side is waaaay cooler than Leggy (OMG so hawt) will ever be!'  
  
Sauron sighed. These... Things were so persistent and really hard to kill. Not impossible, fortunately, even if they were (and he snorted with laughter) a quarter Maia (who would want to sleep with Olórin anyway?), they could still die in an amusingly painful manner.   
  
Orcs or Nazgûl? Hmmm... which one to pick? The elleth was waiting for his decision, although presumably she didn't expect it to be a painful death.  
  
Sauron had a brainwave (which, he reminded himself bitterly, would have been impossible if he were nothing but an eyeball).  
  
'Go to the window and look out,' he commanded. She frowned, as though expecting to be directed to her chambers. 'Just go, sod you, you wanted to be in my service, you will do what I say!' She went over. So easy to manipulate, and he didn't even have to use THE VOICE.  
  
As she looked out, he signalled to his Orc, who pushed her. She fell screaming to her death, and was impaled on a spike near the bottom. Sauron watched the fall with some satisfaction before calling to the Nazgûl, who were flying around like the lazy sods they were, watching Mordor.  
  
'One of you get over here!' he yelled. The Nazgûl turned looked at each other and began to gesture for another to go. 'GET DOWN HERE, SOD YOU!' he yelled again. Reluctantly, one of the Nazgûl flew down. He was the smallest, so was always given the short straw by consensus.  
  
Sauron didn't care. 'Get off your bird-reptile-beast thing,' he told it, wishing he'd thought to find a name for the creatures. It was so undignified to talk like that.  
  
Quivering, the Nazgûl got off the bird-reptile-beast thing and Sauron got on. He wasn't really strong enough for this, but he had to get rid of these sodding... Things. The bird-reptile-beast thing took to the sky and, grabbing the mutilated body of whatever-her-name was, took off, into to the west. Sauron grinned to himself. They were paying a visit to the... thing's "mother".  
  
Galadriel stared into her mirror. There was so much evil these days, a surprise visit from Sauron seemed like nothing compared to what was constantly running about Lothlórien.  
  
'This is only the second?' she asked Sauron, carefully ignoring the bloody corpse of her "daughter".  
  
'Only?' asked Sauron nervously. Sure, they were easy enough to kill, but they freaked out even him.  
  
'The fair wood of Lothlórien has been overrun with such creatures. They disturb the peace, they claim relations who do not know them. People return who should not be here. Some are cursed with many, others are not recognised.'  
  
Sauron patted the bird-reptile-beast thing on the head as it leaned forward to try and eat Galadriel. It had been trained well. Or it was hungry. But what was the difference?  
  
'And who is this "Leggy" or whom they speak?' he asked. 'Both have talked of him and yet I do not know who he is.'  
  
'Legolas of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil,' she replied. Sauron laughed loudly. The elves of Mirkwood were too snotty for their own good (but what elf wasn't?). He would love to see their prince taken down a peg or two by being called "Leggy".  
  
'Well what are you doing about them?' he demanded. 'If someone like me and my bird-reptile-beast thing can enter the woods unnoticed, surely the evil is so high they must be stopped.'  
  
'They disappear if left,' replied Galadriel, the ever-nice and pleasant elf. 'They appear less and less until they go. It is as though they are forgotten by whatever power put them in this world.'  
  
'Well isn't that just lovely?' said Sauron, sarcastically. 'I know we have agreed to disagree more than once before, but _leaving them_? How much wine have you been drinking? They take time and even when they disappear, they're soon replaced. Kill 'em when they arrive and you don't have to worry about them.'  
  
Lady Galadriel gave him The Look that she only gave Dark Lords. Sauron was used to that sort of thing though, no matter how hard an elf tried, they could never look worse than an Orc. Unless they were one of... Them, which Galadriel wasn't.  
  
He and Galadriel were not exactly old friends, but they had certain agreements, one of which was no mind-reading. Which was honoured by Galadriel, meaning she couldn't tell when he was looking inside her head. Sauron liked those who weren't on his side, they always seemed to believe that he wasn't so bad really, when he was actually nothing more than a sodding git.  
  
Sauron smirked an evil smirk at what he saw.  
  
So the Ring was with the nine (well, eight now the bloody fool Olórin was gone) companions, who'd left Lothlórien a while ago. And they'd taken with them, some... Other Companions. Sauron wanted to laugh at the sheer stupidity. The Company that should be eight now numbered twenty-six. They shouldn't be hard to find, not with the way the... Creatures shrieked.  
  
He bid Galadriel farewell, then headed in the direction where he might find the twenty-six companions. He wanted to meet the heir of Isildur, destroy the sodding sword and get his bird-reptile-beast thing to eat him. He wanted to mock "Leggy" and get the sodding Ring back from the sodding halfling.  
  
How hard could it be?  
  
It was dark when he got to where he could sense more evil than elsewhere, which was a sure sign of... Them. They seemed to all be in boats. When he looked out of the corner of his eye, there were but three boats. But whenever he stared straight on, it was practically a fleet. Well, it was certainly bigger then the Mordor Navy (a venture which hadn't been successful).  
  
He wondered if they could sense the evil that radiated from him. He guessed not, well, maybe the stupid halfling would, as he had the Ring, and the elves might see him. But they were so surrounded by evil that there was a chance he would be over-looked.  
  
Unfortunately, luck was not something evil villains are famous for (although they more than make up for it in brains, some of the time) and as the fleet landed, his bird-reptile-beast thing was shot by about twenty arrows. One flew true, and the beast fell - or was it fell beast? The fall shocked him to confusion - into the bushes, taking a screaming Sauron with it.  
  
Dazed and disorientated, he lay amid the sharp branches, trying to gather his strength again. He really needed the sodding Ring.  
  
He guessed the arrow that flew true was from the true elf: "Leggy". The others had been created by some evil that even Sauron could not comprehend. But it was an evil that grew easily bored, and an evil that forgot to give weaponry lessons, not realising that archery was bloody hard.  
  
When he felt strong enough, he ran in the direction of the twenty-six companions. The shrieks of several catfights could be heard for miles.  
  
'All right!' he shouted, striding into the clearing. 'Who shot my bird-reptile-beast thing?'  
  
At once, there was a clamour from the eighteen females.   
  
'Oh, that was me!'   
  
'I did it!'  
  
'Me! ME!'   
  
'I'm better at archery than even Leggy!'  
  
The true elf ("Leggy") winced at the use of the name and hid behind the dwarf. Whether he was hiding from Sauron or from... Them nobody knew, it didn't really matter as he was twice the height of the dwarf.  
  
_They_ started to fight again over who shot the arrow. Creating a mental block of the shrieks, Sauron turned to face the eight.  
  
'Why don't you just kill them and be done with it?' he asked, exasperated.  
  
'They arrive as quickly as they depart,' answered the human with Narsil reforged. The heir of Isildur. He was the only one who didn't flinch at Sauron's gaze. Sodding show off.  
  
'Sodding... Things,' said Sauron darkly. 'Here you are on a quest to destroy me. ME!? Yet you're surrounded by an evil far more potent than even Morgoth could imagine. Not that he had an imagination, sodding git that he was.'  
  
_They_ seemed to notice that the attention was not on them, and that Arda was not currently revolving around them., so decided to force themselves back into the conversation.  
  
'Who the hell are you?' one asked Sauron, looking disgruntled at the fact that her beloved "Leggy" was now hiding in a tree somewhere that she couldn't see.  
  
'Sauron, Lord of the Rings!' he cried dramatically.  
  
_They_ all exchanged knowing looks. 'Don't be silly,' said someone else with "chocolate orbs" rather than normal eyes. '_Everyone_ knows Sauron is a big fiery eye thing on top of the dark spiky tower thing.'  
  
'How articulate,' muttered the heir of Isildur.  
  
'ARE YOU ALL SODDING STUPID, OR WHAT? I AM SAURON, LORD OF THE RINGS! DEAL WITH IT!'  
  
The Voice made them shut up. It even made the sodding heir of Isildur shut up (some people were just too cocky for words). Sauron was glad to know he hadn't lost it all.  
  
Sauron then looked around the clearing. 'All right then, where's that sodding halfling with my Ring?'  
  
The twenty-six also looked around, confused. Frodo and Sam were on the Eastern bank of the river, making their way into the forest. One of... Them started snivelling.  
  
'FRODO! My love!' she screeched at the disappearing hobbits. 'Don't go where I can't follow!' One of the... Others looked at her disparagingly.  
  
'That,' she said. 'Was Sam's line. You are, like, such an attention whore it's un-bloody-believable.'  
  
'And I suppose you think,' chimed in another, joining the argument that had nothing to do with her. 'That saying "bloody" in the middle of random words makes you sound British? I bet you write Americans at Hogwarts as well! That is _so_ not cool.'  
  
'Harry Potter is way better than Lord of the Rings!' snapped one, with violet eyes. 'It has Tom Felton!' There was a collective sigh and drool from about half of the group, during which, the Frodo-fancier brought the attention back to herself by running into the water, screaming that she couldn't swim and how Frodo had to save her. He didn't. Sauron reforged his estimate of the halfling's intelligence.  
  
'OMG!' squeaked one of... Them. 'If Frodo and Sam have just left it means the Uruk's'll be here soon! OMG! BOROMIR! You can't DIE!'  
  
The man, presumably Boromir, was instantly surrounded by... Them.  
  
'But they'll take Merry and Pippin!' the remaining halflings were also surrounded. Group by group, They squeaked in the realisation that there beloved would soon face a group of Uruks.   
  
Sauron laughed.   
  
And laughed.   
  
And laughed.  
  
Until: 'OMG! Sauron... so hawt!'   
  
Sauron screamed and backed away, before remembering who he was. _It_ was vaporized in a second, apart from its "cerulean pools", which could be used for drowning people in.  
  
But it made him think. Since when were "OMG" and "hawt" Westron? Or any language, for that matter. He'd been around long enough to know how to speak almost anything, and this certainly wasn't it. But how did he understand the language of... Them?   
  
Unless... Their evil was so deeply routed that it sought to corrupt even the language in which he spoke. But nobody could be that bad, could they? Sauron grimaced, of course they could.  
  
He screwed his eyes shut and concentrated on life before... Them. 'Do you... Things even understand Westron?' he asked, hoping in hell that was the language in which he spoke.  
  
'What the hell did he say?'  
  
'OMG! I know! It must be Black Speech!'  
  
'Nah, I'm half-Orc, I would know!'  
  
'Well it's not Sindarin or Quenya, I speak those.'  
  
'Huh, I speak the Silvan dialects as well, and it's not them!'  
  
Sauron could have laughed. Their creators had given them so much, yet none had the ability to speak Westron.  
  
'They don't speak Westron!' he yelled at the others. Sure, they were the enemy, but they were better than... Them. 'They desecrated our world, but that wasn't enough: they made us speak... Their language too!'  
  
With the realisation of the corruption, the Westron started flowing again, not idiocies they'd been forced to use since... They first appeared. The eight were speaking in Westron and found (to their surprise) that they could no longer speak the language of... Them.   
  
The incomprehension that now filled the clearing was enough to give the Uruks a clear advantage when they ran in, hollering in various rude languages. Saruman was so crude, he seemed to have taught them naught but how to curse.  
  
Since... They surrounded the eight,... They were the first to go. Only when... They were all dead did the remaining eight begin to fight in earnest. Sauron watched from the sidelines, true he was evil and liked killing, but he was also a lazy sod. He noted, with interest, that the two halflings were carried off. So Saruman thought he could get the Ring, did he? Sauron wasn't about to discourage the Uruks, the sodding halflings deserved what they got.  
  
The heir of Isildur was flashing his sword like it was special or something. Sauron concentrated his will on breaking the thing, but it didn't work. Sodding sword. He'd managed to break it an age ago.  
  
The other human got shot repeatedly. The Uruks were rather pointless. One arrow in the right place brought down even the strongest attackers, and they had to waste another five just to make pincushions.  
  
However, the battle seemed over when the rest of the Uruks ran off after their companions and the halflings.  
  
'So the twenty-six are whittled down to the three?' he remarked casually, as the heir of Isildur wangsted about the dead human.  
  
Re-sheathing his sodding sword, he got to his feet and turned to "Leggy" and the dwarf. 'We shall not abandon Merry and Pippin,' he announced, ignoring Sauron. 'We shall follow the Orcs.'  
  
'Well you'll be lucky then,' remarked Sauron, from the side. 'If you're running after those smelly sods for leagues and leagues, you won't find any more of... Them.' Then, suddenly remembering who he was and who they were. 'YOU WILL DIE, HEIR OF ISILDUR. YOU AND "LEGGY" AND THE DWARF. AND I COULDN'T CARE LESS, BECAUSE I'M EVIL. I'M OFF TO BARAD-DÛR, SEE YOU AT THE END OF ALL THINGS!'  
  
And he wandered off, leaving the silly sods on their pointless chase, thinking carefully about the future.   
  
_They_ had been right:... They had predicted the end of the human and the kidnapping of the halflings. He began to wonder if finding one of... Them to tell him what would happen mightn't be so bad. After all, one could never be too prepared, the fate of Middle-earth hung in the balance here. 


End file.
